Wizards
by Delirium-Storm
Summary: Sam is not a Winchester, but is Azazel's son and must find his way. Eventually he will meet up with the Winchesters and will have to decide between joining them in the hunt against the one creature he has been avoiding or taking care of himself. Disclaimer: I own nothing
1. Chapter 1

Sam is not a Wincester, but is Azazel's son and must find his way.

~ Writer's note:

This is my first published story here. I have it titled as Wizards in my documents though I don't think there will be any wizards I believe I will leave the name. I do enjoy feed back of all kind so please feel free to let me know what you think.~

Sam pov:

Sam put the cigarette to his lips and took in a huge breath, then withdrew and discarded the remains on the ground, grinding it with his boots as he released the heavy smoke from his lungs to swirl lazily in the frigged late autumn air. The pounding in his head abated for now but the vision was fresh in his mind. Soon. He would meet them soon.

He pulled the huge heavy and old dark brown leather jacket closer to his 6'1" body as a strong breeze whipped by blowing his shaggy ear length brown hair into his currently hazel eyes. The cold seeping deep into his being through the ripped and faded jeans and nipping at his bare fingers.

He then made his way down the road to the old decrepit cabin at the edge of town near the woods he was currently squatting in as the light of the day had begun to wain.

He had decided earlier that he would do the salt and burn tomorrow night when the moon was full and the light plenty seeing as the batteries for his piece of crap flashlight had died and he currently didn't have the money to by more and still feed himself for the next two days. Food and bullets where expensive theses days and he needed all the money he could get.

Coming to the cabin after the 45 minute walk he sighed deeply and walked carefully and silently up the rotted steps to the four roomed, dangerously tilted, and weather damaged cabin. Opening the creaking door he stepped agilely around the hole in the floor and made his way to the small wood stove in the corner of the main room.

Opening the door to the stove he used a stick to bring the remaining coals from the fire this morning forward and placed wood and some dry kindling he had gathered three days ago when he had found the place, in.

He had come to Arcadia, Ohio five days ago from Newburn, Tenneesee because of a couple of strange murder cases. Six young blonde women between the ages of 20 to 33 who had gotten into fights with their boyfriends or significant others and left their houses and wandered town. Reportedly around nine at night screams could be heard and when people came to investigate they would find the women with their hair ripped out and their tongues and eyes removed.

At first it was passed off as just regular murders but there had been reports of a short brunette woman in a fancy Victorian style dress seen around each of the incidents. Doing some digging he found that in 1941 a woman named Rebeca Thompson aged 45, murdered a blonde woman aged 23 after she discovered her and her husband having an affair. She knocked out the blonde with a vase and stabbed her husband with a piece of glass, killing him. Then she took the woman and stabbed her in the heart and cut out her tongue and eyes, then proceed to rip out her hair. Afterward she was struck with so much grief she took her own life with that same piece of glass used to kill both victims. Her and her husband are buried in a field where their old estate used to stand. Thus he concluded that this was most likely a haunting and would put his theory to test tomorrow night, and with the eight o'clock curfew he needn't worry about any more murders in the mean time.

With the fire going strongly he closed the door then moved to his bag that was 5ft away from the stove and was packed tightly and ready to go should he had to have evacuated quickly. He unpacked his old and tattered sleeping bag that he has had for about as long as he could remember and placed it on the floor next to him. He then removed his jacket and boots setting them neatly aside and grabbed form his bag a granola bar and a half drunk bottle of water. Eating slowly so as not to upset his stomach that has been working on one small meal a day for the last three weeks. Afterward he burned the trash from his granola bar grabbed the hunting knife from his jacket and placed himself in his sleeping bag to sleep lightly for the next five hours with the knife griped tightly in his left hand and his ears open for any disturbances.

It was 4:30 and the sun wasn't even up however, Sam was. He was currently doing sit ups on his sleeping bag, having already done his stretches and push ups. Finished he put on his boots, rolled up his sleeping bag and put it away, putting on his jacket he slipped his knife into the inner pocket.

Walking out into the frozen morning, the ground covered in frost and angry clouds keeping it dark he worried about the salt and burn tonight and hoped the clouds would be gone by then allowing the moon to bestow upon him enough light to get the job done.

Pulling his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and looked to see five left before pulling one out and placing it between his lips and putting the pack back into his pocket. Pulling his silver zippo lighter from his jean pocket he brought it to the cigarette and light it thinking about how he would need to get more before placing the lighter back where it belonged. He definitely needed cigarettes more then he needed food.

He took a deep drag and removed the cigarette from his lips between his right pointer and middle fingers. Releasing the smoke he began his trip into town knowing he needed to get more information and supplies before tonight.

Having finished uncovering the dirt from the grave, Sam brought his shovel up and down onto the casket. Opening it released an old moldy smell and reviled the remains of Rebeca Thompson. Having already put the salt and gasoline on the bones he brought out a match book however, before he could light it a strong force threw him back into a tree 12ft from the grave.

Looking up he saw Rebeca Thompson in her Victorian style dress, her brown hair once in a neat bun now lopsided with strands in her crazed face. She snarled and brought her hand up to strangle him her other hand holding the glass she was about to stab him with.

He knew this was going too smoothly. Using all his will power he reached to the back of his jeans and took the gun he had prepared for such an occasion and quickly brought it forth and shot her between the eyes. She screamed and disappeared dropping him. Making the most of the fall he sprung up, ran to the matches, did a barrel roll picking them up, light them and through them into the pit just as she reappeared screaming as her body caught fire and she disappeared for good. Making full use of the full moon he quickly reburied the grave and left.

An hour later he arrived at the old cabin and garbed his bag leaving just before two in the morning, not leaving a trace he was ever there other then the footsteps on the frost covered ground.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam's Prov:

Having been on the road for 2 weeks, camping in the woods, hitching rides, eating what he caught, and the weather getting colder and colder until it snowed, he decided he deserved a hot meal and a warm place to sleep. With that in mind he stopped in the next town he came to in Indiana not even bothering to get the name.

It was 11 o'clock at night when he walked into the bar. He had tried to clean up as well as he could, his shaggy hair still fell in his currently more green then brown eyes, his shirt under his heavy leather jacket was a long sleeved deep purple with black stripes circling both biceps and a black collar. His jeans where dark washed but well worn and had holes at the knees, the ends tucked into his heavy boots.

Going over to the bar he ordered a beer, being only 18 he had to use a fake ID. With how tall as he was meant that he was believed even if his face gave him an 'innocent' appearance.

Getting his beer he sat on one of the stools and secretly studied the pool games. He saw two drunk men one with blond hair, a scraggly beard, and dark beady eyes, and a plaid shirt tucked into his gray jeans, and old work boots under that. The other one was an older man with graying black hair, light blue eyes an orange shirt, and torn jeans with grease stains, and work boots.

Taking a large gulp of beer he stood and stumbled slightly over to them. Trying to pass himself off as a drunk college student he challenged them to a few rounds of pool. After three rounds of him loosing they offered one last one give him a chance to win back his money. This time he won and plastered on a shocked face so that it would be more believable. They weren't happy and tried to challenge him again but he put them off saying he didn't feel good and ran to the bathroom after grabbing his money. Once he reached the bathroom he checked to make sure it was empty and ran over to the window. Jimmying it open he crawled through barley fitting and landed on his back in a frozen snow covered bush under it. He got up as fast as he could and took off running as fast as he could and didn't stop until the town was far behind him.

Three more days hiking down the road he was able to hitch a ride in an old pick-up truck with an old gray haired man with a beard that came to his collar and kind old brown eyes. The old man took him to the next town and dropped him off at a non nondescript motel just at midnight. Thanking him he exited the truck and watched as he drove off before entering the office. Signing in under Floyd Carter and using another fake ID he was given a room for three days.

Going into his room he saw it was clown themed and allowed himself a small shiver before placing his bag on the bed. Taking out the large box of salt out of his bag he began to salt all the openings, then he pulled out a welcome mat with a devils trap and placed it trap down in front of the door and salt line, before taking a cleanish change of white t-shirt and black boxers before going to the bathroom and showering. Afterward he took all the other clothes out of his bag and took them to the bathroom to clean then hang up. Going to the bed he cleaned it off setting his boots beside the bed and jacket on the wooden chair near the small sticky table top with a clown face after taking out his hunting knife. Then turned out the light and going to bed with his knife under his pillow.

At 6am he was startled from cleaning his weapons by the loud purr of an automobile. Moving slowly to the window he moved the thin clown curtain aside to see a nice classic black 1967 Chevrolet _Impal__a, __pull into the motel parking lot and two men get out. _

_The older one had __salt and pepper__ hair and dark blue eyes with stubble more than two days old. His shirt was a red __plaid__ with a dark blue __jacket__ on top and dark wash jeans with work boots. _

_The other one was a little older then himself with dirty blond hair, __stubble, and__ green eyes. __He had a light blue __plaid__ shirt under a black jacket and li__gh__t faded jeans and work boots._

_He watched as the__y__ parted ways. The older going to the office and the younger going to the trunk to get their bags. He observed how they walked and how they carried themselves. Stepping back from the window and letting the __curtain__ fall back into place he sat on the bed wondering why hunters where here._

_Cleaning up everything he packed up his bag like always and put on his jacket __over an orange __long sleeve__ shirt and dark washed jeans tucked into heavy boots,__and knife back in his inner pocket. Stepping outside under the guise of getting a smoke he pulled out his cigarette pack and put one between his lips and light it with his lighter before __placing__ them back where they belonged._

_Taking a __deep__ drag he observed as the older man came out of the office and nodded in __greeting__ before he __went__ to the younger one and they entered their room. _

_Nodding to himself he stayed there until his cigarette was __finished__ then __went__ off to a dinner nearby to get his first decent meal in months. Under normal __circumstances__ he would have order__ed__ healthy food but its been so long __since__ he __ha__s eaten anything __greasy.__ The __waitress__, a pretty lady in her late 30's with brown hair and and blue eyes asked for his order. He asked for bacon and eggs and hash with toast and orange juice._

_Not long after, those two hunters from before came in and sat in the both __in front__ of him and ordered their food. Afterward they began talking to themselves __quietly.__ He tried to __secretly__ listen and only got parts of what they said. Something about a __wendigo__ killing hikers in the woods. When his food __arrived__ he thanked the lady and looked back up to see the older one that was directly in front and facing him look right into his eyes. Holding the man's gaze for a moment he looked back down at his meal and began to eat. _


	3. Chapter 3

(John) Winchester Pov:

Leaving the restaurant they piled into the Impala, and drove back to the motel. Entering their room John turned to Dean.

"Did you see that kid in the both behind you?" He questioned

"What kid?" Dean went over to the bed and started to pull out their guns to clean.

"The one from earlier that was out smoking when I came out of the office." John took off his jacket and got out his newspaper clippings for the case they were working on.

"The tall one that looks like he should be in high school not hanging out in some dingy motel smoking cancer sticks?" He asked as he released the clip on one of the berettas.

"Yha, he looks to young to be here by himself, and the way he was watching us." John replied as he glanced up at Dean who looked back over and raised his eyebrow.

"Do you think he is a problem or do you think he is a hunter?"

"I don't know I hope neither. He could get himself killed." John's grunt at the end signaled the end of the conversation.

Leaving the motel that night to put the plan into action John looked over to the kids hotel room and saw the light off and the curtains closed. Sighing he hoped the kid wasn't trouble and wouldn't get himself hurt.

***

It was dark and his head hurt. Opening his eyes he realized he was hanging upside down, tied to the ceiling and Dean was beside him still unconscious, Blood seeping from a gash on his forehead.

"Dean! Dean, wake up!" John whispered as loudly as he could to wake up his son without alerting the wendiego. Dean grunted and opens his eyes, observing his surroundings. "Dean, you with me?"

"Dad? Yha, what happened?" Dean asked groggily turning to face his dad.

"What do you think happened? We got careless and got caught by the wendiego." John stated in an annoyed voice glaring at is son.

All of a sudden a shrill shriek and a flash of red light down the tonal had both men alarmed. Sounds of footsteps and a sudden yellow light blinded the two men from the approaching figure. Both men tensed as the figure came closer and the light was faced to the side instead of their faces. What the saw both surprised and alarmed them. The boy from yesterday standing there with a flare gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Putting the gun away the kid then drew a large hunting knife from the inside of his large dark brown leather jacket. Coming closer and reaching up to take hold of the rope holding John up he brought the knife down and cut him down before doing the same to Dean allowing both men to land hard on their backs before cutting the rope around them lose.

"I thought you two were hunters." The boy mumbled quietly to himself.

Surprised, John stared as the boy finished his job and told both men to follow him out of the tunnel. On the way out they saw the charred remains of the wendiego.

"Did you do that?" Dean asked the boy who only nodded his head and not turning to look at him or the corpse.

"By yourself?" John asked and again another nod. "Your a hunter?" another nod. "How old are you?" John inquired, this time the boy stopped and looked at him then turned back around a continued to walk to the exit. "Old enough" he replied.

Once outside the boy brought out a cigarette and light it, inhaling deeply before releasing the smoke to dance in the light breeze. "Who are you?" Dean demanded.

Annoyed by all the questions, the boy turned to him and said loudly, "I'm the guy who just saved your asses!" Trying to keep the peace but still wanting answers John placed his hand up non threateningly.

"Your right we're sorry I'm John Winchester and this is my son Dean."

sighing deeply and taking another drag of his cigarette the boy said, "Names Sam, I'm 18."

Shock was clear on their faces as a boy four years younger then Dean had not only managed to kill a wendiego with barley a scratch on him, but also save both their lives.

"How long? How long have you been doing this? On your own?" John asked hesitantly, almost dreading the answer.

"A long time." was his only reply

Making a fast decision John said, "Come with us." Getting weired looks from both Sam and Dean he explained, " I won't make you stop, but at least come with us so you won't have to go it alone." He knows hes a bad father but leaving this boy to hunt on his own and possibly get seriously injured or killed?

"I don't think-" Sam begins but is cut off by Dean who caught onto his dad's mind frame.

"Think of it as a mutual partnership you need transportation and by the looks of it a couple of good meals and we could obviously use more help." He hated sounding week to anybody but he knew that right now they need to make sue this kid didn't get himself killed.

Sam looked at them long and hard and it almost felt like he was looking into their souls before he closed his eyes, finished his cigarette and through the remains into the snow. Looking up he blew out the smoke before looking back to the Winchesters. "Alright, let me think about it." He then turned to leave but before he could take a step Dean called out to him.

"Let us at least give you a lift. We're going to the same place and you can give us an answer before we leave tomorrow at 6am." Nodding Sam agreed and when they arrived to the clown themed motel they parted ways.

***

6 am came and went but no Sam. They where beginning to worry that he decided not to or had escaped sometime in the night, But when 8:30 rolled around they spotted him coming back to the motel from town. At the curious looks he got he asked, "What? I had to run to town to pick up a few things." proving his point by lifting the plastic bag in his hand that looked to be filled with snacks and two cartons of cigarettes.

"You coming with?" Dean asked barely congaing his excitement, to witch he revived a nod. Dean made to grab Sam's backpack to put in the trunk, but he shied away saying he wanted to keep it with him. They all gathered into the classic black 1967 Chevrolet _Impal__a. _It turned on with a purr and began to play_ 'Sweet Child of Mine' _as they pulled out of the motel parking lot and onto the road.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam pov.

Pain. Raw, undiluted, pain. Thats what Sam felt at this moment. He moaned and arched his hips off the bed of the bird themed motel, sweat cascading from his every pore. Turning onto his side and drawing his knees as close to his body as possible and clutched at his head pulling at he hair near his temples. Panting he thought about how lucky he was for both Winchesters to be out at this moment.

Grunting as bright lights passed behind his eyelids. Given the pain of this vision it had to be a ways away.

The pain slowly began to fade enough for him to get up and get out his journal to write down the details of his vision. Wiping the blood from his nose and where it had landed on his lips with the back of his hand he brought his pencil to paper.

Finishing his task he went to the bathroom and took a shower washing away the blood and sweat. Getting out he put on a black t-shirt under a green plaid button up with light washed jeans and his heavy boots. Slipping on his jacket he left the motel room. '_God, I need a smoke_.'

* * *

An hour of walking around the small park enjoying the warming spring air Sam decided to head back to the motel. Getting there he saw the impala in the parking lot. '_Must have finished their __errands.__ Well it is almost 8 at night_.'

Walking into the room he was greeted by both Winchesters sitting on their respective beds. They had been lucky enough to find a motel with that rare third bed in the room. Nodding back to them he moved to sit on his bed near the window on the far side of the room. Taking off his jacket he moved to put it neatly on the bed and spotted a patch of blood that must have been because of his nose bleed earlier. He placed the jacket over it hoping that they hadn't already seen and turned to look at them.

John took this moment to speak, "I need to go see a friend who asked for help with a hunt. Hes a little weary of new people so I need to go alone. Will you two be good here?" He asked.

"Sure, we can use the time to get to know each other better, right Sam?" Dean turned to Sam and only received a blank look so he continued, "You've been with us for about three months but I barley know anything about you at all." He stressed.

Blinking, Sam nodded. "I guess." He mumbled lowly still unused to speaking with people so much.

"Great, always wandered what it'd be like with a little brother." Dean smiled and neither Dean or John saw Sam tense.

" Alright I guess I'll be back in two days. Be good." John said as he grabbed his things and left, the purring of the car singling his departure.

"So... want to see whats on TV." Dean asked awkwardly. To save him from his discomfort Sam nodded and removed his boots before walking over to the ratty brown sofa and turning on the old rabbit ear TV. Dean joining him to his left a little to close Sam shifted more to the arm bringing his feet up to his chest on the sofa before finding a late night movie.

* * *

''_It Came from Beneath The_ Sea'' was playing in the small black and white screen that fazed in and out. He was aware of soft snores coming from his left when he woke. He turned to see Dean asleep against the left arm of the sofa in an uncomfortable position and would no doubt suffer when he woke.

Sam himself had been laying in the fetal position facing the TV and his head pillowed on his arm between the arm and back of the sofa with one of Dean's legs thrown over him. Grunting he through Dean's leg of getting a grumble of protest from said man who otherwise didn't move. Getting up Sam stretched and looked at the clock. Surprise covered his face as he noted the time, it was the first time other then being knocked unconscious or close to death that he had ever slept to 9 in the morning.

Shrugging it off for now Sam got clothes from his bag; a white under shirt, with a black and blue plaid button up, his light faded jeans with holes on the knees, and clean boxers before going to take a shower.

Leaving the bathroom Sam noticed Dean was gone. Checking all the salt lines and traps he concluded that Dean must have gone to get something to eat. Desperately needing a smoke Sam put on his shoes and jacket and stepped outside.

The first puff was heaven and calmed his pounding head from the impending vision he could feel approaching.

The setting was dark, the woods towering the little girl in the blood splattered pink dress. Her flats long gone in the race for her life. Her red hair matted to her face from the sweat of running for so long. He could feel the thing was just playing with the child that could be no older then 10. Tripping she turned around to face the monster and screamed throwing her arms in a useless attempt to protect her from her death.

* * *

Snapping out of the vision when someone snatched his cigarette from his lips. His eyes shot open and he started coughing from the big breath of smoke he had been holding tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

He looked up to see Dean stomp on his precious cigarette with a mad look on his face, and a bag of what looked like food in his left hand.

"Didn't we tell you no more smoking?!" Sam refrained from getting mad and punching him, but just barley.

"Stop doing that! I've been smoking since I was twelve and I'm not stopping now." Sam was so tempted to kick him the face and stomp on him till his ribs busted and laugh in evil glee, but didn't. It had been over 2 WEEKS since his last one and he was _dieing._

"This will kill you and you won't be able to run." Dean argued his case.

"I run faster and farther then you and besides, I'm a hunter I probably won't live long enough for them to kill me."

Dean not buying it only glared and entered the motel room. "I got food." He got out some doughnuts and dug into a glazed one. Sam stares intently at the chocolate covered one. He is still not used to accepting food from people. Shrugging he picks up the chocolate one and eats it.

He can feel the vision buzzing in the back of his head like a dull ache, he sees flashes of other deaths and a sign saying welcome to Sioux Falls, South Dakota and a full moon over head. So in a month, is when these visions will come true.

Finished eating Sam decides to sleep. He hated being nonproductive but there isn't anything he could do about it now.


	5. Chapter 5

Aurtors note:

I've been hard at work writing and with school back in session I might get more in, seeing as my classes end in the morning and I'm stuck there untill about 7pm.

I took some elements from _Supernatural__: The Animation _

I own nothing

Sam pov.

Its a nature he cannot keep chained and buried for long. No matter what he does that darkness of his soul always fights to the surface. Its the demon in him that struggles to take him over and if he was a lesser man Sam would have been long gone. He had known from a young age that he was not like the other humans. Even surrounded by his many brothers and sisters he could always sense the underlining hatred and competition between them to be the one to survive and be their father's heir.

* * *

Sam had killed a few of his sibling himself. He tried to tell himself that it was self defense, but even he couldn't deny the blood lust their demises had brought him. He couldn't explain why he had ended them so violently, why he kept slamming the huge rock into Quinn's face even after he knew he was long gone. Neither could he reason why he had enjoyed the blood splatter when he had made Carla's head explode after she had tried to turn him to stone.

For as long as Sam could remember living in the camp like setting with his other 399 siblings where they were taken when they turned four and their powers awakened, their mothers burned to ashes before their very eyes as their father Azazel the yellow eyed demon explained their destiny. It was every child for themselves.

Luckily for Sam his mother was a powerful psychic who had known this was coming. Though she wanted a normal life for her son she needed to help him survive more. She had taught him how to hunt, fish, gather, to stitch and bandage himself, how salt and silver would be the most important things in his life now, and what to expect when he awakened his powers. Though she was a psychic and strong she too like all the other mothers meet her fate by flames.

When Sam was told his fate and left to his own devises at the camp like the other children, instead of crying about his loses he hurried to secure any salt, pure metals, and food he could find. He then found an old dusty building with holes it the roof and fungi growing from the walls. It was the most decrepit building in the camp and knew none of the others would want to kill him over such a thing. This also gave him the advantage of them thinking less of him, thinking him stupid.

By the time he was nine the number of children was 187 and he himself had killed six of them. He and others had tried to escape many times but the demon 'babysitters' had kept them inside the camp. He tried to keep to himself but the winters were harsh with his cabin full of holes and even he couldn't stay alone forever. He had meet twins Andy and Ansem and became allies.

* * *

They where weary at first and he didn't blame them. They were all each other could trust. Both of them had the power to get anyone to do what they said against their victims will, they told many to kill themselves and that is why they are feared and still alive.

Sam had met them by chance before they turned ten. He was by the creek at night when most of the children didn't leave their safety. He was wearing a ratty hoodie over a red t-sirt and riped muddy jeans and bare foot. He was lucky it was summer right now, though he had never gotten sick before if he did now he would surly die. His brown hair was choppy, cut short with a piece of glass from a window, and stopped short of his hazel eyes with yellow flecks.

Hearing a snap of a twig behind him he raised a sharp rock he kept with him at all times, to see two boys who looked exactly alike. Both with short black hair and brown eyes. They both wore nice clothes and looked well fed. Sam took this to mean that they where strong.

One of them with shorter hair an a little taller than the other said, "Use the rock to kill yourself."

Confused Sam furrowed his brows and tilted his head. The twins looked confused and startled as well and repeated themselves. When nothing happened they looked scared and backed up saying, "Who are you." Sam thought about their behavior and realized their power must not work on him. Though this gave him courage to stand up and lower the weapon still in a ready stance, he remained alert.

"Sam" he stated boldly startling the two. After moments of tense silence the shorter one burst out laughing followed by the taller one. Sam is a little miffed having not heard joyous laughter in a long time.

"Good one dude! I'm Andy and my clone here is Ansem." Andy, the short one said wiping a tear from his eye.

Ansem glared at his brother, "I'm the oldest so that would make _you_ the clone." They started to bicker amongst themselves and Sam couldn't hold in a small chuckle. Startled the two boys turned to him with wide eyes and Andy was about to say something when with a grunt of pain Sam gripped his head then looked up and around before tackling both of them to the ground just as the place they had stood burst into flames.

Getting up as fast as he could Sam took his sharp rock and threw it as hard as he could into the bushes and hit the girl hiding behind them. He then ran to them to fallow up, grabbing the girl with the long tangled blonde hair and brown eye's wrist before she could get away and pulled her into the clearing. She brought her hand up to bring forth her flames again but he side kicked her in the stomach sending her to the ground.

She got back up and this time brought out a large hunting knife and tried to slash at him sloppily. He dogged and got a small cut on his left arm and used his right fist to punch her hard in the throat. She fell back to the ground clutching her throat and wheezing. He grabbed the discarded knife and got on top of her straddling her sides. He brought the knife up and brought it back down fast into her chest cavity near her hart, blood splattered all over him. Getting up he watched as blood bubbled past her lips and her eyes grow dull and glanced down at the knife, _'Make that __186__'_ .

Pocketing the knife and turning around he remembered he was not the only one in the clearing. Andy and Ansem stared back with equally frightened and awed faces. "That was amazing!" Andy crowed.

"Where did you learn that and how did you know she was going to attack us?" Ansem demanded.

"I get visions." Was all Sam said as he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Andy called, "Stay with us!" turning to look back Sam stared at them hard and opened his mouth to reply but was cut short by Ansem.

"You are obviously dangerous as an enemy not to mention you are unaffected by our power. Also it looks like you could use some new clothes and some food. So think of it as a mutual relationship."

Sam looked at the boy. _'Even if he didn't have the power to get people to do what he __wanted__ by saying so __he__ still would, with how well he __speaks.__' _Nodding Sam agreed, _'__After all__ better with then against.'_

* * *

Waking up Sam felt like cold water had been thrust into is veins, sweat dripping down his back. He looked around to find himself back in the ugly bird themed motel with it dark out and Dean asleep in the middle bed just to his left and wondering just why the hell he was remembering all that now.


	6. Chapter 6

My friend Jade made the cover page and does photoshop if you want to cheek her out just go to facebook and type in Evely Reilly graphics

* * *

(Dean) Winchester pov:

John had returned to the motel two hours ago and told Sam and Dean to pack and that there was a hunt in Sioux Falls that Bobby needed their help with.

Sam having always been prepared to leave at a moments notice only nodded and left to go for a short walk. Dean was sure he went to smoke but couldn't do anything about it because he had to pack all the weapons he had out and was cleaning. Sighing he got to work.

When they had all gathered in the Impala for what would be almost a two day drive Dean decided to sit in the back with Sam who was surprised at the action. His blue eyes widening slightly under his messy mop of brown hair. Dean was always amazed with his mood ring eyes. He smiled at Sam noticing that his clothes fit him better.

He and John had been feeding Sam as much as they could. Sam only ate once a day but they made sure there was plenty for him to eat. So far he had put on some weight but he was still lean. It must be because he was still growing and was taller then Dean at a whopping 6 foot 3 inches where as Dean was scraping at 6 feet.

They had found out that Sam had turned 19 a week after he joined them. Dean and John where sad because he didn't say anything even though he had only know them for a week and a day. Dean wanting to be a good sport went out and got a blueberry pie. Pie, his answer to everything. John had gotten him his very own hand gun because it seemed all he had was that knife and that wasn't good for a hunter. How he had been hunting for _"long enough"_ without a proper weapon Dean would never know.

* * *

When Sam had returned to the motel that night from wherever he went they jumped out and surprised him. In retrospect as hunters they should have know that was a bad idea especially for someone who had been hunting alone before this. In shock Sam had whipped out his knife and thrown it at the first presence he registered which was Dean. Luckily he missed his face by a hair and it hit the wall just above his right ear leaving a small nick.

When he registered what happened his brown eyes open wide and mouth slacked he started to apologize and demanded to bandage Dean's ear. When they showed him the pie and gift his already shaky nerves became worse and his eyes watered. Dean and John cringed never had they seen so much emotion from the boy and it was terrifying.

"Thank you. Thank you I... I haven't …. I don't." Realizing that Sam had probably never receive a gift or a cake (read pie) for his birthday Dean intervened.

"Hey don't sweat it." He placed his hand carefully on Sam's shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "You are one of us now and Winchester's sticks together."

Dean got the shock of his life when Sam hugged him and berried his head into Dean's neck. Dean blushing bright red slowly brought his arms up and around Sam, hearing his dad in the background chuckling a bit.

Whipping his eyes that now had flakes of blue Sam put on a serious face and said, "That never happened."

"Ditto." Dean declared as they parted.

* * *

That had been one of his happiest memories since his mothers death by the yellowed eyed demon.


End file.
